


We Were The Best

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You were my brother, and I loved you."</p><p>(aka I have a crapload of prompted stories on my tumblr about the Dynamic Duo 2.0 that are too short/too many to post individually, so I threw them all together here.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chocolate For Dogs

“I don’t understand, Grayson.” Damian huffed, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t understand what _you_ don’t understand.” Dick shot back. “I hid Easter eggs full of your favorite candy in the yard. Now you have to go find them.”

“But why? _You_ hid them. _You_ find them.” Damian countered. 

“It’s a game.” Dick laughed patiently. He pushed Damian down the patio stairs. “You’re supposed to have _fun_.” 

Damian stumbled into the grass, but turned around. “But how is it supposed to be fun? I don’t even have someone to compete against!” 

“You can compete against Titus.” Dick shrugged. “Find all the chocolate eggs before your dog does.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Chocolate is _deadly_ to canines, don’t you kn-” 

“Of course I do.” Dick smirked, plopped down on the steps. “Oh look! It seems Titus has already found some!” 

Damian instantly spun around, running almost panicked after his dog. Dick smiled as Damian began scooping some of the eggs into his arms, attempting to hide them in his hoody pocket. Titus jumped up, trying to steal the treats away and suddenly the game of hunting became a game of tag, as Titus chased his young master around the yard and through the gardens.

Dick heard a sigh behind him, and glanced back to see Tim coming through the door, cup of tea in one hand, and the newspaper under his arm. “That’s pretty low, Dick.” Tim murmured, sitting next to him on the step. “Especially for you.” 

“Oh, he’ll get over it.” Dick waved the accusation off. “It’s my job as his big brother and mentor to make sure he doesn’t end up like Bruce, and lock himself in that big dark house all the time. Particularly on nice days like this.” 

“Vaguely threatening and attempting murder on his dog isn’t the way to do that.” Tim hummed, sipping at his tea. 

“How many of these _blasted_ things did you put out here, Grayson?!” Damian shouted, trying to juggle five colorful eggs in his hand while holding them up out of Titus’s reach.

Dick grinned wider. “Thirty-seven.” 

Damian’s eyes widened incredulously as he looked over. “I’ve only found twenty-nine!” 

“Keep huntin’ then, kiddo.” Dick laughed. Damian let out a roar of frustration as he lobbed the five eggs in his hand at the patio, one by one. Dick and Tim were both alarmed and impressed that each projectile hit their mark of Dick’s throat and chest.

“He’s going to get you back for this.” Tim muttered as Damian went back to the search.

“I’d like to see him try.” Dick laughed, before the smile dropped from his face. “You’re not going to help him, are you?” 

Tim tilted his head and clicked his tongue, raising his mug back to his lips as he smiled. “I just might.”


	2. Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick tries to go for a run with Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, sometimes I just appreciate when Dick is the bigger brat. Let’s just say after this, Dick somehow conned Damian to run to the ice cream parlor, then they bonded over how shady Bruce is.

“Okay, we’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” Damian asked, not looking away from the computer file he was looking at – _had_ been looking at for the past five hours.

“You are your father’s son, and I am incredibly grateful for that.” Dick rattled off. Damian suddenly felt movement as his chair was tilted and pulled backwards. “But I have completely and utterly _failed_ as your elder sibling if I let you actually _become_ your father.”

Damian clung to the sides of the chair and twisted, glaring at Dick as he continued heaving the chair across the cave floor. “What are you _babbling_ about?”

Dick huffed, slamming the chair back onto its base. Damian wobbled, trying not to lose balance. “You’re going outside.”

“Wha-“

“You are not spending your whole life in this cave and in the dark.” Dick scolded.

“But Grays-”

“No buts. Now go get changed. I think we should go for a jog. The weather is pretty great today.” Dick turned, heading back to towards the stairs. “You know what? I think Titus should come too.”

Damian scoffed, leaning over the chair’s back. “I have work to-”

“If you don’t hurry up, it’ll be Tim coming with us instead of Titus.” Dick hummed, not looking back. Dick heard Damian growled, and the distinct shuffle of Damian running towards the lockers.


	3. Stakeout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman and Robin are on a stakeout, and Dick hopes Damian never knows the real reason as to why. (background TimKon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much like SuperBat, TimKon is one of my secret pairings. I also imagine Dick being a giant creep for everyone he knows and loves.

“Grayson, stop it.”

“Shhhh.” Dick responded, not moving the binoculars away from his face. Damian had never even gotten his from his utility belt. He could see their targets from here. Dick was crouched on the roof, while Damian stood grouchily beside him, almost hoping the people they were watching would see them.

“They aren’t going to hear us.” Damian huffed, crossing his arms.

“Yes, they will.” Dick said quietly.

“This is ridiculous.”

“It is not.” Dick retorted, finally looking back at his partner. “It is a matter of someone’s safety.”

Damian’s frown deepened. “Pennyworth said the clone was his best friend.”

“He is.”

“Why would he hurt him?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“Has he been possessed, then?” Damian questioned, looking down at the diner a little closer. “Drugged? Being manipulated?”

Dick turned back, magnifying the binoculars’ scope further. “Not as far as I’m aware.”

Damian scoffed. “Then what is so important about Drake and the clone having dinner that we have to stake them out?!”

Dick felt his eyes narrow behind the cowl as he watched Kon-El reach across the table and take a hold of Tim’s hand, a furious blush coming across both his and Tim’s smiling faces. “I’ll tell you when you’re older, Damian.”


	4. Innocense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick can't believe his own observations.

He was an _assassin_. Born and raised – and really _good_ – assassin. Dick had to remind himself of that. But that image was ridiculously hard to conjure up in times like these. 

He’d gotten a call from Alfred late last night. Damian had been hurt in a showdown with Two-Face. Or maybe it was Penguin. He doesn’t remember who it was, actually. He had tuned out after he heard his little brother was injured. Not life-threatening, Alfred said, but serious. Kid was going to be in a lot of pain for a long time.

He arrived at the manor at the crack of dawn, just in time to see the Batmobile heading back into the city. Dick frowned. Bruce better be going after whoever did this, not making up for the time he lost bringing his son back home. After a quick word with Alfred, Dick made his way to Damian’s room. The door was cracked open, so he didn’t knock. Just a peek first.

Damian was propped up on his bed, a cast around one wrist, bandages across his face, an IV hooked to his other arm. From the corner of his shirt, Dick could see the start of stitches.

But more than that, there seemed to be a sleepy smile on the boy’s face. His eyes were only half open, and appeared to be a little unfocused. Symptoms of Alfred’s all-powerful painkillers if Dick had ever seen them.

Titus stood vigilantly next to the bed, head gently resting on Damian’s hip. He was whining softly, licking at Damian’s fingers. Next to him, the small black and white kitten, named after the family staple, was purring loudly, kneading at Damian’s stomach. The boy let out a soft giggle, and the cat meowed happily, trotting carefully up Damian’s chest to press their noses together.

Assassin, Dick. This kid was an _assassin_.

Dick shifted his weight, and suddenly Titus’s sharp gaze was on him. He held up his hands in surrender, tapping gently on the door. The small smile disappeared from Damian’s face as he turned his head slightly. It didn’t make him look any tougher, not when he still looked three seconds away from another medically-induced nap.

“Grayson?” He croaked. Alfred the cat nuzzled his cheek.

Dick grinned, “Hey, bud. Heard you had a rough night.”

Damian shrugged, unable to stop the smile from reappearing as the kitten bopped at his lips. “Mother’s given me worse.”

Dick cocked his head thoughtfully. “Not exactly a comforting thought, kid.”

“What’re you doing here?” Damian mumbled. Dick sat next to him on the bed, tossing his arm across the headboard. Now closer, he could see another two lines of stitches across the child’s upper torso. In the back of his mind, he made a note: If Bruce didn’t wreak havoc on whoever did this, then rest assured, he _would_.

“Wanted to make sure you were alright.” Dick explained, running his fingers through Damian’s hair. As he slowly repeated the motion, he noticed Damian leaning gradually into his side, eyes closing. Dick felt his grin widen. “Is that okay?”

Damian’s only response was a contented sigh, followed by slow, even breathing. Titus shoved his head under Damian’s hand while the kitten licked his temple before curling up under his chin. Dick took a chance, shifting his arm from the boy’s hair to his shoulder. Damian’s only reaction was to press closer to the older man’s side.

Dick glanced up at Titus, who was still staring protectively at Damian. With his free hand, Dick pointed at the child. “An _assassin_ , Titus. Can you believe that?”

Damian just kept on sleeping.


	5. Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian wants to fly, just like the boy on the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damian's four. Dick is mumblemumble age.

Damian learned as a toddler not to question how his mother got access to things. After all, she was all-powerful. She was _magic_.

Suddenly, the woman in question was behind him, hands running down his arms. “The tutors informed you did well today, Damian.” She said quietly. “I think that merits a reward.” 

Damian turned to her and smiled. “Really, Mama?”

“But of course, my love.” Talia returned the grin. “Now what do you wish?”

“Papa.” Damian couldn’t help bouncing on his toes. “I wish to see Papa, please.”

“Very well,” Talia said humorlessly. They walked to the room filled with machines and monitors, the room Damian wasn’t really supposed to go to. But, being four, his curiosity was overbearing. They’d already had to change the lock seven times.

Talia released his shoulder and went over to the keyboard. She tapped a few buttons and the main screen burst to life. It showed a crowd, lots of bright colors and large animals. Damian was instantly mesmerized.

“It looks like your father is out on the town this evening.” Talia murmured. To Damian, she sounded annoyed, but as long as it wasn’t at him, he didn’t care. She crouched next to him. “He’s in the crowd. Can you find him?”

Damian started looking, but was easily distracted by the trumpeting elephant. He glanced back to the main action of the arena and couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping open. A group of people swung through the air, flipping and posing and spinning. Two adults and a child. At one point, the child was on the trapezes by himself, the two adults watching from the outside platforms. He spun and flipped, extending his arm to tap lovingly against the trunk of the elephant below him.

“Flying…” Damian whispered. He turned to Talia, smacking her arm excitedly. “Mama, that boy is flying!”

“I suppose, yes.”

“Can Papa fly?”

Talia thought for a moment. “In his own way, yes, he can.”

“I want to fly, too.” Damian moved towards the monitor. The boy on the screen let go of the bar, flipping as he freefell to another one. “But not like Papa. Like _him_. I want to fly like that boy.”

“Acrobatics could be useful,” Talia thought out loud. There was a knock at the door, and a man appeared. Talia stood and sighed. “Stay here for a moment, Damian.”

Damian nodded absently as she walked away, crawling up on the chair and leaning close to computer. The act ended with the man and woman both gently lowering the boy onto the back of the elephant. The boy grinned widely, holding his hands proudly above his head.

“Like him,” Damian repeated, putting his tiny hand against the screen. “I want to fly just like him.”


	6. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected reunion. Funny how death is never as permanent as they all thought.

Dick sighed as he slowly made his way up the manor steps. It’d been months, or was it years? The mission with SPYRAL had taken longer than anyone expected. But it was okay, it was over now.

He opened the front door and immediately dropped his bag. He could take it upstairs later. He’d lost contact with Bruce ages ago and, despite everything, he missed the man. So first thing’s first. Reunions.

As he slowly walked through the house, he vaguely wondered why Titus didn’t tackle him when he opened the door. The dog had always done that. It _had_ been a long time. How long was a Great Dane’s lifespan again?

He had turned down the hallway that housed the study when he heard the clacking of claws, followed by a soft voice. Alfred, no doubt. He’d wait for the old man by the clock entrance. He was too exhausted to backtrack right now. As he reached the study, he gently put his hand on the door and pushed it open.

“Grayson?”

Dick froze and blinked slowly. There was a harsh tug in his chest as he turned towards the voice. A boy stood there, eyes wide with shock, Titus wrapped around his thighs. But it couldn’t be. Because that boy was-

“Father said you were dead.” Damian whispered. Dick felt a mirroring surprise being etched on his face as he realized this wasn’t a hallucination. This wasn’t a trick of light. That was his little brother, his _real_ little brother.

“I was dead…” Dick muttered, turning towards the child. He was older now. Not by much, but enough to make a difference. “ _You_ were dead. I saw you, you were…”

“Now I’m not.” Damian started walked towards him, Titus close on his heels. Dick hesitantly took a step forward.

“Well. Now I’m not either.” Dick’s heart was pounding in his chest. He felt a grin wash over his face as Damian’s footsteps quickened. Suddenly the boy was running at him full speed. Dick crouched just in time for Damian to plow into his chest.

Damian wrapped his arms tightly around Dick’s neck, as Dick embraced his waist. Damian’s breath was loud and shaky in his ear, but he didn’t care, if only for the fact it existed at all. And it was real, this whole situation was real. Damian was a firm weight in his arms, and he was real. Alive and breathing and _real_.

Dick didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the water drip off his nose. Damian suddenly dug his nails into his shoulders. Dick just sobbed a laugh, pressing a kiss to the child’s head. Titus whined excitedly from a few feet away.

“I-I missed you,” Damian breathed. “I…I didn’t want to believe Father…I looked for you, Grayson. I looked everywhere, I-”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Dick cooed, smoothing a hand over Damian’s hair. The child shook in his arms. “I’ve got you, Damian. I’ve got you, and everything is going to be okay.”

And for the first time in years, everything was.


	7. Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightwing says the wrong words, and Robin pays the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad ending is bad. Whoops.

“Let him go.” Nightwing said calmly. The man – hopped up on some sort of Venom – grinned, took Robin’s wrist, and bent it slowly backwards until a crack echoed through the alley. Dick watched as Damian closed his eyes and bit his lip in attempts to stop from crying out. 

“Whadya say?” The freak breathed.

“I said to let him go.”

The man raised his foot and stomped it against the side of Damian’s knee. He let out a sharp gasp.

“One more time, buddy.” The man grinned. “What do you want me to do again?”

Dick didn’t take the bait. He stood silently, staring as Damian tried to control himself again. There had to be a way to get the man to let go of Damian’s throat. Damian could fight, they both knew that, but with the threat of getting his windpipe crushed, the boy didn’t want to risk it. Dick didn’t want to either, that’s why he had resorted to just…asking.

“Come on, pretty boy.” The man raised Damian off the ground, shaking him a little bit, like he was trying to get as if Dick’s attention again. As if it had ever left him. “Either you say something, or I kill the squirt right now.”

Dick’s stomach dropped. “Let him go…please.”

The man chuckled. “The don’t call it the magic word for nuthin’!”

But he didn’t drop Damian. Instead, he raised the boy higher, then threw him with all his might into the wall next to him.

“Robin!” Dick shrieked as the boy landed in an unconscious pile. The thug laughed gleefully as he turned and booked it out of the alley. Dick didn’t care. He ran to his brother’s side, gently gathering him into his arms. He held Damian against his chest, pushing the boy’s hair out of his eyes, ignoring the blood coating his fingers. “Damian. D, can you hear me?”

As he waited for Damian to respond – or move, or do _anything_ – he heard the Venom-drugged man screech, followed by three gunshots. Dick glanced up briefly, recognizing the sound as one of Jason’s guns. For once, he was grateful for his brother’s weapon of choice, making note to thank him for taking that bastard down later.

Damian suddenly stirred in his arms, his head shaking slightly. “Night…wi…?”

“It’s me, bud. I’ve got you.” Dick murmured, pressing the distress signal on both his mask and Damian’s. Then he ducked his face down to Damian’s, rocking him slowly back and forth. He felt Damian sigh, and realized he slipped back into unconsciousness. He squeezed his eyes shut, tightening his grip on Damian’s arm. “I…I didn’t stop him in time. I’m sorry, Damian. I am so, so sorry…”


	8. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why does a ten-year-old know how to perform blood transfusions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no medical knowledge whatsoever, so please don’t kill me because I’m sure this is 100% inaccurate.

Damian had been given the night off, so it was purely coincidence that he was in the cave at the same time Nightwing haphazardly drove in on his bike. Damian heard the tires screech and looked over to see Nightwing dismounting, not even bothering to put the kickstand up. His brother stumbled as he walked towards the stairs, then clung to the railing for dear life as he climbed them.

“Gray…son?” Damian asked, putting down the case file and standing from the bench.

Dick waved him off. “Not…not now, bud.”

Damian watched his brother stumble further, then glanced back at the bike. Suddenly his brain noticed the marks on the floor. They weren’t scuffs, or even dirt. They were bloody footprints.

He turned back to Dick, who had made it as far as the computer banks. Closer to the lights, Damian could see blood dripping from his brother’s body. “What the hell happened?!”

“Zsasz. Buncha of other dudes.” Dick mumbled, leaning against the chair, clutching at his chest. “I don’t know. A bunch of stuff.”

Damian pursed his lips. “Med table. Now.”

Dick blinked, and turned back to see Damian walking towards him. “Wha…?”

“ _Now_.” Damian repeated harshly. Dick had the nerve to roll his eyes before following the demand. Damian was already at the medical station by the time he got there, tossing needles and sutures and some plastic piping on a small worktable. Dick watched as Damian started to disinfect his hands.

“Shouldn’t you call Alfred?” Dick asked.

“Already did. But you can’t wait for him.” Damian stated. “So I’ll just get started. Lay down.”

Dick sighed. “It’s not like a lot of the cuts are that deep. It was just because there were so many.”

“I can see that.” Damian continued. Dick could see he had no time for small talk. “Regardless, it looks like you’re going to need a blood transfusion.”

Dick blinked blearily as he watched Damian start to roll up his own sleeve. Realization dawned on him, and he grabbed Damian’s wrist. “Whoa, wait…not from _you_!”

“Of course from me. I match your blood type.” Damian pulled his hand away. The Nightwing uniform was already shredded, so Damian just tore the rest of one sleeve away. He stretched Dick’s arm out, and began disinfecting a small area. “You have terrible timing, Grayson. Father came back with some gunshot wounds this morning, used the rest of the blood supply we had. We haven’t been able to restock yet.”

Dick groaned as he slumped back against the table, watching as Damian connected needles to both of their arms. By the time Alfred got to them, the transfusion had already begun, and Damian had already sewn up a third of Dick’s injuries.

“Feeling better?” Alfred asked as he, too, picked up a needle and sutures.

“Thanks to Damian, I’m well on my way to it, yeah.” Dick smiled at the butler apologetically. Alfred understood the meaning: the kid is _ten_ , he shouldn’t be doing _this_.

Damian snorted as he finished another line of stitches with a smirk. “What would you do without me, Grayson?”


	9. Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian is kidnapped as a civilian and held for ransom. He isn't as compliant as his captors had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet Damian is kidnapped all the time, so at some point just gets mega-bored and does things to purposely annoy his captors. If only to get them into more trouble when Bruce or Dick show up to save him.

The man yelled in annoyance, and his partner pushed him away from the sofa. “Frankie, calm down. You can’t let the kid get under your skin.”

“Yeah, anyway _Frankie_.” Damian sneered through his smile. The man spun around, and came storming back to the sofa, throwing his partner away from him. He reached down and pulled Damian up by his shirt.

“All I said was to eat the chips. To have a little snack.” Frankie hissed. He was so close his mustache tickled at Damian’s nose. Damian grimaced. “Why won’t you just eat something?”

“Hmm.” Damian cocked his head to the side. “Because it’s disgusting.”

The man yelled again, throwing Damian back down. He winced as his tied wrists hit the cushions at an awkward angle.

“If you want me to _eat_ something, give me something _edible_.” Damian snapped. “I wouldn’t feed those crisps to my _dog_.”

“You don’t get a say here, brat.” Frankie shouted. “We’re in charge, not you!”

“Look, kid.” The partner tried to explain. Damian just rolled his eyes. Good cop-bad cop routine, typical. “We said in the note we ain’t gonna hurt you. And we don’t want to. So just eat the food like a good little boy, okay?”

Damian scoffed. “Imbeciles.”

The partner frowned. “Hey, now. We’re trying to be nice here.”

“ _Nice_ would have been not taking me from the gala at all.” Damian said, as if he were explaining it to a child. “Being nice now doesn’t negate the fact.”

“I’m getting the duct tape.” Frankie mumbled from the large window, puffing on a cigarette.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Damian called.

“Oh no?” Franke asked. “And why not, rich boy?”

“Batman won’t like it.” Damian grinned again. “And then he’ll just kick your ass harder.”

“Batman ain’t coming, kid.” The partner sighed. “For one, he ain’t real. At least I don’t think so. For two, he’s not going to have any idea where we are. We didn’t give a location in the ransom.”

“You didn’t have to.” Damian claimed. “Have you forgotten my father funds Batman Incorporated?”

The two men paused, then looked at each other.

“Did you really think Batman wouldn’t take into account that my idiotic brothers and I might become bigger targets then?” Damian continued. His grin suddenly turned malicious. “And did you really think I would wear a blinking cuff link because I thought it was fashionable?”

Frankie rushed over, flipping Damian to inspect his wrists. “Oh.” He breathed. “Oh _shi_ -”

The window shattered. The two men were knocked unconscious before they could even think about pulling their guns.

“You’re late.” Damian sighed as Dick cut the cords holding his wrists.

“Sorry, sorry. The police actually wanted to interrogate me about your kidnapping this time.” Dick sighed, giving Damian a grin as he ruffled his hair. “Now what have I told you about calling us idiots?”

“You said I couldn’t do it without reason.” Damian recited, taking the grappling hook Dick offered him with a shrug. “You were late; I had a reason.”


	10. Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph reminds Dick of the damage he’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently incredibly short wednesday fics are a thing I’m starting, what the fuck. This wasn’t based on an comic book that came out today, just one of the millions of thoughts I have about the potential reunion between Dick and Damian. This one is where Dick came back and revealed that he lied to the whole family about the fact he was alive and Damian takes the news that Dick willingly stayed away from him/the family pretty hard. I’m in the mood for lots of emotions and angry women today, so.

Stephanie found him at the top of the stairs. Sitting on the floor, curled up in a tight little ball, cheek pressed against the large wooden door.

She quirked her lips to the side, glanced at the ground.

She wished she could feel sorry for him.

“Dick,” She called softly. His blue eyes – dulled now, no longer bright and warm – jerked up. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I know.” Dick sighed. He kept her gaze, and looked like a kicked puppy. And she felt her heart tug. Wanted to sit next to him and comfort him. But knew better. Knew he didn’t deserve it. Not right now. “I know that.”

“Then leave him _alone_.” She concluded, putting a little bit of force behind her words.

Dick shook his head, still somehow keeping his face smushed against that door. “Last time I did that, he _died_.”

Steph couldn’t quite argue that, despite how long ago it happened.

“You’re right.” But Steph couldn’t stop herself from digging the knife in a little deeper. “He died, and you _lied_.”

Dick’s eyes dropped to his toes.

“But he’ll forgive you. Probably.” Steph sighed, long-suffering. “You mean too much to him for him not to.”

Another twist of that knife, and Steph felt a little bad, because she didn’t feel bad at all.

“He’ll come out eventually.” She ended, finally moving forward once more. “He just needs to digest everything.”

“Yeah.” Dick responded, emotionlessly. “And I’ll be waiting right here for him.” A pause, and Steph noticed Dick squeeze his knees tighter. “I’m not leaving him again, Steph. I promise.”

“Promise all you like, it’s no skin off my back.” She shrugged, but she paused next to him, looked him over one last time. He looked pathetic, sitting there. Like the child Bruce Wayne first took in.

But nothing like the child beyond that door. The child that she knew had just received the biggest emotional blow of his life. The child that she knew, from Cass breaking into his room through the outer window, had spent the last two hours crying, questioning everything, blaming _himself_ for his big brother’s actions.

The child that she knew had spent the whole afternoon curled up in his bed, watching Dick Grayson’s shadow as it sat unmoving on the other side of that door.

She didn’t know if Damian hoped he went away or not. But if he didn’t come out of his room by the time dinner rolled around, then she would be the next one busting in through his window. Maybe she would ask him, then.

“His heart’s broken.” She whispered harshly, reveled in the tightening of Dick’s lips. “And _you_ did that to him, Dick. All on your own. You took that tiny little heart and you _shattered_ it into a million pieces. All with that stupid little _lie_.” She looked away, continued her trek down the hall. “I hope you’re happy.”

She was a few feet away when she heard him respond. His voice was cold and disappointed. “Thrilled.”

He listened as Steph’s footsteps disappeared down the hallway, as another door – probably his sister’s room – closed. He exhaled, pushed his cheek harder against the wood as he shifted, ran his fingers across the door.

“I’m sorry, Damian.”

The whisper was barely that. Barely a breath, but by the squeak of the mattress behind the barrier, Dick knew Damian heard him.


	11. Medicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick discovers a secret he was never meant to, and feels guilt he always should have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt, for 1000 followers.
> 
> I don’t know how well I actually filled your prompt, oops. :/ Though I did eventually add my little idea that I told you about, that might fit this one, about Dick’s loss causing Damian a lot of emotional trauma that he unhealthily dealt with on his own. Dick originally went in there to find Damian to spar or something, and remembered they were out of some sort of bandage or meds or something and decided to check the bathroom first, I don’t know. My reasoning for him being there is really weak, sorry, haha. Damian's 14 or 15 here.

Dick knew his nosiness would get him in trouble one day.

But his siblings’ well-being was paramount. Their health and safety was the only true thing he cared about.

He took one of the bottles out of the cabinet.

And this didn’t look good.

There were three bottles total, all at a low height that correlated with Damian’s reach. Not that that mattered – this was the bathroom connected to Damian’s room, and no one else, sans perhaps his pets, had access.

But what concerned Dick the most was that only one had a label.

“Most people knock,” Dick heard from behind him. He squeezed the bottle in his hand, turned back towards the door, towards the bedroom. Damian was stepping in from the balcony, his cat perched smugly on his shoulders. “Though I guess that’s another rule you feel the need _not_ to follow, hm?”

“Hey, kiddo.” Dick gulped, tried to smile. But with his fresh discovery, it was a difficult task. If Damian saw what Dick was holding, he didn’t mention it, instead going over to his easel, sitting royally on his stool. The cat remained wrapped around his neck, seemingly interested in the canvas in front of them. “What’s up?”

“The sky, as you were so fond of telling me once upon a time.” Damian sighed, tilting his head as he absently picked up a piece of charcoal, running it lightly across the fabric. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” Dick murmured. He glanced back at the medicine cabinet, blinked twice, before snatching up the other two bottles and stepping back into the bedroom. “Damian, can we…” Damian glanced over. “Can we talk?”

Dick watched as Damian’s eyes darted to his hands, then up to his face. Damian shrugged one shoulder before turning back to his easel. “If you wish.”

Dick moved towards him slowly, delicately, actually feeling a little threatened when Alfred looked away from the budding artwork, stared predatorily at him. They both remained completely silent, up until Dick was standing next to the easel, staring down at Damian sadly.

“Damian,” He whispered, held the bottles out. The rattle of the pills inside felt as if it echoed. “What are these?”

Damian didn’t look away from his sketching. “Supplements.”

“Supplements?” Dick repeated. “What kind?”

“Vitamins, mostly.” And Dick knew – he just _knew,_ right then – that it was a lie. “Calcium, energy-”

“Steroids.” Dick cut off. “Damian, these are steroids.”

And to Damian’s credit, he didn’t deny it. But instead claimed, “It’s a League practice. I’ve used them since I was a child.”

“Even when…” Dick pursed his lips, shifted the two unmarked bottles to one hand. “…when you and I were partners?”

Damian paused, charcoal still pressed against the canvas. He tilted his head to the other side, and Alfred rubbed their cheeks together. “I believed I doubled my dose then, actually.”

Dick’s eyes fluttered, as his heart dropped through the floor.

“But it had nothing to do with you.” Damian clarified instantly, as he began scribbling across the page once more. “I just…you know how it was. I had that mission to prove myself back then and…” A quick smile, a quiet laugh. “Well, to say I was _intense_ about it would be an _understatement_.”

Dick wanted to join in on the laughter, he really did. But this wasn’t a laughing matter.

“There’s no labels on these.” Dick pressed. “Did Leslie give these to you under the table or something?”

“As if she’d ever do such a thing.” Damian scoffed. He flipped the charcoal in his fingers, ran his knuckles across the canvas, smudging something. “I got them from my mother. And then from my old caretaker Ravi after that.” A peek of a tongue as he focused on fixing whatever he had messed up on the canvas. “I told you, Grayson. It was a League practice. Where else would I have gotten them?”

“Damian, that’s not…” Ethical. Okay. Safe. “ _Legal_.”

“In the United States, perhaps.” Alfred meowed and Damian paused, seeming to take the cat’s opinion very seriously. “Learn some international law, why don’t you.”

“So, you’re telling me.” Dick swallowed the lump in his throat, already planning on going to find Bruce. Because if _he_ didn’t know, then there was no way in hell that their _father_ did. He shook the two bottles in his left hand. “These weren’t…Leslie didn’t _prescribe_ these to you.”

Damian glanced, to confirm what bottles Dick was talking about. “No.”

“Then, what about these?” He held up the third bottle, the one with the label, with Damian’s name written clearly across it, with dates and medical terms that Dick couldn’t completely translate in this moment.

Damian continued to stare at his artwork, and Alfred licked at his cheek. “Dr. Thompkins prescribed those, yes.”

Dick stared down at the bottle. A sickly orange, barely hidden by that blinding white sticker. “Are these steroids too?”

“No.” Damian answered with an exhale. “Anti-depressants.”

“Anti…” Dick gasped. Damian finally stopped his drawing, and slowly put his utensil down. “ _Why?_ ”

And finally, _finally_ , Damian placed his hands in his lap, looked up at Dick with blank blue eyes.

“Because you didn’t come back.”

The statement could have had enough force to throw Dick onto the ground, but he only let himself sway to his heels.

“You didn’t come _back_. You were _dead_.” Damian continued, with an undertone of bitterness. “And _I_ was… _alone_. Making bad choices.” He turned his head as Alfred let out a quiet meow, pushed against his cheek. “ _Dangerous_ choices.” He reached up, scratched at the cat’s chin, left a kiss along his whiskers. “I needed to do something about it. So I spoke to my father and Dr. Thompkins. This turned out to be the solution.”

“Bruce knows?” Was the only question that made it from Dick’s brain to his mouth.

“About the anti-depressants, yes. Everyone knows of them.” Damian hummed. “Well, everyone but _you_. But I guess it doesn’t matter, since they’re a bit of a waste now.”

“What do you…”

“I took them because you were _dead_.” Damian interjected, and that sound of bitterness was growing. “And you were _never_ dead. So what’s my reason now?”

Damian’s eyes were burning into his, and Dick found himself unable to hold the gaze. His stare dropped to the bottles in his hands.

“Oh, Damian, I-”

“Stop.” Damian demanded, and suddenly he was spinning back to his easel. “I’ve made peace with your _lies_ , Grayson. I don’t need, nor _want_ , any apology you have to offer.” Damian reached for his paintbrush, began digging around in his bucket of paint tubes. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to put those bottles _back_ where you found them and leave me _be_.”

“Damian-”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m _busy_.” There was venom growing in his words, and a sadness in his motions as he continued to pointedly _not_ look at Dick. “Now, _go_.”

Dick knew he’d reopened a wound. Knew Dick’s false death was a sore spot for all of his siblings, all of his loved ones, and he knew that none of them had quite forgiven him yet, Damian especially.

Damian who had died protecting him. Damian who had come back to the belief that he’d failed, because Dick died anyway, in another battle, on another day. Damian who lived with that guilt and that heartache for months afterwards, apparently dealing with it all on his own.

“Okay.” Dick whispered. And despite the cat’s warning growl, Dick leaned down, wrapped a wrist around Damian’s face and kissed at his temple. “Don’t work to hard, alright?”

And it wasn’t going to help. But Dick couldn’t leave it at this. Not when he _knew_ now. Knew the pain he’d caused, the overall measures Damian took.

And he’d given Damian a lot of space since he came back. A lot of leeway on what he shared and what he didn’t.

But his siblings’ well-being was paramount.

And Dick had had enough of Damian’s secrets.

 _We were the best._ That’s what Damian had said about them, once upon a time. When they were inseparable. When they were each other’s favorite partners. Before anyone died, for real or otherwise.

_We can be the best again._

“And maybe when you’re done, we can go to that new ice cream shop on the edge of town. How’s that sound?” Dick asked as he smacked another kiss against Damian’s temple before releasing him.

“Adequate, I suppose.” Damian permitted, not bothering to reprimand his cat when the creature swiped at Dick’s nose. Dick nodded, and turned away without another word. He leaned back into the bathroom, placed the pills back in the cabinet, and stared at them for just a few seconds, before closing the cabinet once more. “You ever…I don’t know, ever think of trying to kick the habit?”

“The anti-depressants…not exactly. Though I plan to speak with Dr. Thompkins when I am in need of my next refill.” Damian admitted. “The supplements? No.”

A hesitation, then. And to Dick’s surprise:

“But if that is something _you_ think I should work on, then I will give it a try.”

Dick smiled. “That’s all I can ask, buddy.”

He turned towards the door, then. Began planning on speaking to Bruce – not so much about his youngest child’s secrets, but maybe requesting a night off of patrol for Nightwing and Robin – when-

“Grayson?” He turned back, found the teenager staring at him. Eyes wide and vulnerable, looking like the eleven-year-old Dick left behind all those years ago. “Don’t…tell Father. About this. Okay? Don’t mention what we talked about. What…what you _found_.”

Dick felt that guilt eating back into his soul. Because after everything, after everything he’d done to this child, all the pain and hurt and loneliness he’d put him through. Despite his distance and anger, Damian still _trusted_ _him_.

And he didn’t deserve that. But he was going to work towards the day that he would be.

He threw a grin over his shoulder, kept walking towards the door.

“My lips are sealed, partner.”


	12. Rooftop Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick has expectations of his return to Gotham. His reunion with Damian defies all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sort of family reunion is coming in Grayson 12 and I’m not prepared. So. Based off of today’s preview. Dick doesn’t have that dumb disguise on/took it off. Damian is the one crying at the end. Something, something, Damian's fears of being inadequate and forgettable. >500 words, I don’t care, I have emotions.

If Dick was honest, this wasn’t how he expected it to go.

He expected tears, mostly on his part. A lot of hugging, again, mostly done by him. A few kisses to the cheek, _all_ done by him, for sure.

Just…he expected a lot of emotions. A lot of mostly-happy emotions, hopefully from both parties.

But…not this. Not really.

Damian had gotten word, he knew. From Tim. Tim had told him, and then Barbara confirmed – she had told Dick that much. That Damian was aware, and was coming to terms with everything himself, on his own.

But still. Dick expected…something. Expected those hugs, those tears, that potential happiness, after a quick bout of anger and betrayal, of course.

He didn’t expect to come to the manor to visit the newly amnesic Bruce, and see the silhouette of the little boy on the highest peak of the roof. Didn’t expect to go up there after him, after waiting for him to appear, somewhere, for over an hour.

Damian didn’t even look at him, when he popped out of the roof hatch in front of his feet, a little further down the roof’s slope. Kept himself curled up, lips hidden behind bent knees and the pair of arms bracketing them. Eyes locked on the sky of stars above them.

Didn’t look at him as Dick crawled up the roof either, or as he plopped down next to him and bumped their shoulders.

The two sat there in silence, almost like the days of old, when they were partners, when all they had was each other, and the quiet was comfortable.

But then, the silence was broken. By a soft voice. By a shattered spirit. By four short words.

“He doesn’t remember me.”

Dick knew that. It was the one thing each member of his family had told him, at some point or another in their individual reunions.

_“Bruce doesn’t remember Damian, Dick.”_

_“The Bat doesn’t remember his Bird.”_

_“Dick. Damian’s_ alone _.”_

He didn’t respond to Damian’s statement. Just slowly leaned over, and wrapped his arm tightly around Damian’s shoulders. Pulled the boy into his side, and grinned sadly, when the child came easily.

He’d taken care of Damian as his own once before. He was more than willing to do it again.

“No, he doesn’t.”

He squeezed Damian’s arm, rubbed comfortingly at his shoulder as he kissed the boy’s temple, buried his nose in his brother’s hair.

“But I do.”

He felt Damian’s weight collapse against his side, and those tears he expected finally came.


End file.
